


Helios Eclipse

by Gothams_Only_Wolf



Series: Red Wings and Silver Stars [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Fist (Comic)
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Gabe Jones are Friends Again, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Has Stretch Marks, Gen, M/M, Sam Can Talk to Birds, Sam Wilson is a Gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5700073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gothams_Only_Wolf/pseuds/Gothams_Only_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Soldier finds out that birds are much smarter than they appear. James, on the other hand, finds that there is such a thing as true love. </p><p>AKA Sam is definitely a Disney Princess </p><p>Sequel to Whisperbright</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helios Eclipse

**Author's Note:**

> So, you guys, gals n nb folk asked for a sequel! Anyway, you get Bucky bein' Bucky, Sam being the cinnamon roll he always is and an bemused supersoldier plus spy. Also, birds make an attempt at matchmaking. 
> 
> Enjoy~
> 
>  
> 
> **Recap of birds for those of you who caught the sequel first:**
> 
>  
> 
> Redwing; Sam's dark morph red-shouldered hawk, the first bird he could talk to
> 
> Mouser; Redwing's chick and Bucky's favorite 
> 
> Anya; golden eagle from Nevada 
> 
> Titania; barn owl with a scar across her beak, helped Sam through a nightmare
> 
> Bones; keeper of raven history
> 
> Droplet, Riverstone; two out of three kingfisher siblings

* * *

The Soldier slips into a HYDRA side-base, gains a new identity and then snaps the neck of every operative in the building who isn't S.H.I.E.L.D. or mercenary affiliated. 

He glances down at the paperwork that labels him as Yakov Aleksis Orel, Anglicized to James Orel. Russian is a language he knows enough to fall into the role of a Russian man who wants to try something new in America. The black credit card is something given to him by HYDRA command and James is going to use it ruthlessly to live... and perhaps remember.

* * *

James finds a semi-decent apartment with a landlady who doesn't care what he does so long as he pays on time and in cash. The woman has a meticulous book so James keeps on her good side, bringing her food when she sounds irritated. 

He finds out, rather badly, that crowds are _not_ his thing at all once he falls out of the Soldier's mind-set of mission, mission, _**mission**_

Misty finds him rocking back and forth in a corner. She doesn't speak but turns on wordless music that isn't disorienting. James comes back down slowly with both hands unfisting from his hair. She has texted him a few times but James wants to talk, even if it is one-word answers. 

"Coffee?" He nods mutely as she bustles around his kitchen, pausing to kneel periodically and ask if he needs anything else. 

"... No." 

"Milk?" He flinches at the mention and she presses her lips thin. 

" _No_." James can't help the hissing tone. 

"Sugar?" 

"Cinnamon and sugar with half and half." He says after nearly ten minutes, Misty stirring her own coffee with her feet tucked under her on the floor with him. 

"You good enough to get it, Orel?" The fake name jars him a bit but he gives another slow nod. He pulls it down to the floor and cracks open the fridge very briefly to steal out the stupid sugar cookies he bought. 

_There's a flash of a small blond man who loved to make them from scratch._

James shakes his head sharply to dislodge the image and gets an odd look from his landlady. 

"Memories, I think." 

"Amnesia?" Misty asks and James sighs heavily. She is a stranger but he needs someone else's help to sort through what he does and doesn't know. 

"Something like that. I know you're my landlady but I think I can trust you. Gut feeling, before you ask." James bravely says, waiting for her to laugh at him or be dismissive. "It might get weird." 

"I've seen and heard some wild things, Orel. Lay it on me." Misty rose an elegant brow in almost a challenging manner. 

James stands up, helping Misty stand as well, drawing her back to his memory board. 

She clears her throat at the sight of the string network he'd developed. Most of the strings lead to the combination picture of the blond (both the black n white and the color), the redhead and the brunette with the wings. 

"Okay, I don't remember a lot but what I do gets written down. I had another flash while I was getting my cookies. Wait here." James made them some more coffee and offered her a cookie as he launches into his explanation. 

"As far as I can tell, I'm supposed to be a man named James 'Bucky' Buchanan Barnes, born 1917. I was best friends with a guy named Steve Rogers and we were, and I quote, 'two peas in a pod' from the 107-year-old lady in Brooklyn. I've got memories written down for the time in the 30s. When it hits the 40s, 'm a little hazy but still alright. From what I can tell, I vanished in 1942 in a mission against HYDRA. The next thing I remember is... her." James points to the redhead.

There are several aliases listed next to her name but he has the top one circled. 

"Sounds like a book but go on," Misty waves her half-eaten cookie in a 'continue' motion. 

"Natalia. She was my protégé in a place called the Red Room. Russian spy intellegence; not a good place if the memories from that time are correct. We got... involved and they punished us both. I don't have memories from anything after her until 1965. Think I shot someone important. Things get hazy in the seventies but I remember tampering with a plane in the early 80s." James bites his lip and drinks coffee to hide his nerves. "The 90s I don't know and I think I killed an ambassador at some point but I don't remember much after that until a month and a half ago. I was, uh, ordered to kill Natalia—Don't think that's her name now—and a Level Six in S.H.I.E.L.D. I missed. The blond is someone I know but he got bigger." 

"You... killed people for over seventy years? James, you don't look a day over 28." Misty snorts but James waits until she gets he's completely serious. 

"I told you it was going to get weird." he responds with a shrug. "Him... He's part of them but not sure how he connects." He points to the man in the wings, the thick grey yarn tying the man to both Steve and Natalia. 

"Okay, let me get this straight. You're not actually James Orel. You're a guy from the 40s and you killed people. A lot of people, if your memory is correct, including a president and an ambassador at some point. You don't find it all a bit far-fetched?" She wrinkles her nose and James wants to smile but his face is still working out how to do regular things aside from scowling and being intimidating. 

"My memories are patchy at best unless I get a flashback or déjà vu. You believe me though." 

She bites at her bottom lip but has a thoughtful expression. "Alright. Say I do. Now what?" 

"I need your help in tracking down some people from my memories. I, uh, can't get into places with a metal detector." James is relieved that she's at least willing to bend on some things. 

"And why not?" She prods as she investigates his cork board. He's not stupid enough to ruin his chances at getting back his deposit. 

"This." James rolls up his sleeve and she blinks at the whirring limb. 

"Oh." Misty aborts a move to reach for his arm and James offers it. She turns his arm gently, a small amazed smile lighting up her face. "It's pretty but I can see why you need my help." 

"So, does it help my case or...?" 

"Pretty sure you're some kind of assassin," Misty says matter-of-factly but she pats his metal hand and grins. "I always did enjoy a challenge." 

"Thank you." 

"... You know that's the most you've spoken in the entire time you've been renting from me?" 

James winces. "Yes?" 

"Just teasing, I promise. Of course I'll help." She says and James's rusty, hesitant smile earns him a happy laugh.

* * *

With Misty helping his research, James is pulling together the idea that the man on the bridge, Captain America and Steve are one and the same. Natasha (not Natalia, he's right about that) is on the news and front page of every newspaper he gets his hands on. He stays out of sight though. 

He needs to sort through all of it before he can see Steve and Natasha again, face them with all of who he is instead of fragments of his former selves. He owes himself (and them?) that much.

* * *

The first time he notices the bird, he's amazed that it's that close to him. It's beautiful, whatever species it is, the vibrant copper feathers gleaming in the sunlight. 

He looks down at his ham sandwich and figures it's at least a predator. James pulls out a chunk of ham and offers it with his gloved metal hand, expecting for it to take off on him. 

What it actually does makes him give a small laugh. It takes the ham and pins it in place with a talon, nipping at the ham until it gives way, swallowing it chunk by chunk. When it's done, it shuffles a little closer and James sets another piece down. Just as he's about to take a bite of what's left of his sandwich, it kee-yees at him. 

"What? No." He looks away again and hears the unique call of the bird. James looks at it, looks at his sandwich and sticks out his tongue. " **My** sandwich." 

"I am so sorry. Mouser, stop harassing that poor man." The man from the bridge, the one with wings, doesn't seem to recognize him. The bird peeps at the man, talons gripping at the thick fabric of the glove. "Yes, I know the deli meats are nice. I would've gotten you some if you—Oh. No, we'll leave him be." 

"... Are you talking to your bird?" James questions after he swallows his mouthful. 

"Yeah. 'M Sam. This is Mouser. He's a red-shouldered hawk, if you're curious." Sam says and his eyes crinkle at the corner when he smiles at James. 

"James." He shakes Sam's free hand and looks at Mouser some more. The bird really _is_ rather gorgeous in the late spring sun. 

"You can touch him. Just use the back of your hand and be gentle." Sam encourages James while guiding his hand to brush against Mouser's chest feathers. They're soft, almost downy like his pillow. 

"He's pretty." James offers quietly as he pets the bird with a tiny smile. 

"I'll let him know." Sam murmurs with a grin. 

"I know you," He blurts, pulling his hand back as he says it. "from the bridge—Sorry about your wings." 

"I didn't want to say anything." Sam admits with a shrug. "Still figuring things out, right?" 

"... Right." James wants to cringe at how small his voice sounds but this is his new life and he can be as honest as he likes. "Listen, don't tell them I'm here." 

"Mouser and I can keep a secret." Sam winks and James gets another flash of memory _him in 1939, winking at his own reflection_. "You come here a lot?" 

"Trying to sort through everything and it's just enough..."

"White noise? Yeah, I know that feeling." Sam's gaze is suddenly a thousand-yard stare, one that Bucky's painfully familiar with in the mirror. "Can we meet here on Tuesdays? I have to take Mouser and his mom out to stretch their wings every so often." 

"I think so. Mind if I bring a friend?" 

"Sure." Sam smiles brightly, the gap in his teeth showing as James slowly reaches for the hawk again. "I think you and my hawks will get along just fine."

* * *

James is nervous the next Monday, methodically taking apart the illegal weaponry he still has without even looking at it. He's smart enough to know that HYDRA's looking for him just as much as Steve.

"James, those better be fake." Misty says without blinking at them. She's got a Mossburg shotgun and a Desert Eagle so she has, technically, nothing to stand on. 

"I plead the fifth." He counters as he clears the 9mm Beretta and the SIG Sauer p226 that he's grown rather fond of. "Besides, HYDRA might be after me. No way am I going around defenseless." 

"HYDRA? That's real." 

"Mmm." 

"Oh my... You're being mentioned in the news." Misty mutters as he starts loading clips. "I take it back. You're the most dangerous tenant I've ever had." 

"That a bad thing?" James prods as he reaches for his tea. 

"No. Just keep those close and be prepared to pay for any damages you incur." She teases with a companionable nudge. 

"Can do, boss." He replies with a sloppy salute. "Uhh, Misty?" 

"Yeah Orel?" Misty's right leg is balanced on her left knee as she leans forward to watch him clean the last gun, a sawed-off Winchester shotgun. 

"Can I ask you a favor? I'm meeting someone from the cork board tomorrow and..." 

"You want back-up. Sure," she leans back again, her body long clean lines against his shitty couch. "Get me some of the pastries from Hell's Kitchen and we have a deal." 

"Thank you." James mutters as he packs away his tools, tucking each gun reverently into the specially-fabricated shoulder harness. 

"Don't thank me just yet." Misty snorts from her place on the couch. "Pastries better be in my fridge or else." 

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

Tuesday rolls around with its usual efficiency and James is wondering to himself why that drives him to be awake at ass o'clock in the morning. 

A soft screech startles him into pulling out the 9mm on reflex. It's an owl, white face stark in the barely-there light of the night. He lowers the gun in confusion and holsters it after a long stare at the bird. 

"What?" God does he feel dumb **_talking to a bird_** but it blinks at him before turning its head nearly 180 degrees to the side. James follows the motion to see the glint of HYDRA red lenses lingering in the alleyway. "Thanks." It clicks its beak once before taking off silently into the night. He shoots the HYDRA crony twice more than he normally would, baring his teeth in a snarl that has the intended effect. 

Well, interesting way to start his morning... 

He's scrubbing at his face as he orders another coffee, a ham sandwich and a packet of uncured meats from the butcher down the way. James hopes Mouser likes rabbit before rolling his eyes. Of course the hawk will eat it; it's _meat_. 

He brings it to the same bench and scans the crowd for Sam. Misty waves from her picnic for one, keeping a close eye on him. 

It takes three attempts before he sees Sam extending both arms to catch two hawks in the far corner of the park. The harness he's wearing looks like something out of a fantasy movie, the shoulders pads the same thick leather as the gloves. James gives a hesitant wave that has Sam lighting up, part of James' chest feeling like he's swallowed the sun a bit. 

He doesn't understand it but he bottles it up viciously and shoves it into the other bit of himself that's cold and harsh and iced over like the cryo tube. James'll look at it later; he has the time, he really does. 

"Hey James. This is Redwing," Sam only laughs at being interrupted by a plaintive kee-yarr aimed at the white butcher's package next to James. "Mouser's mom. Is that rabbit?" 

"I picked up some. I didn't know what he'd like so... I got a little bit of everything?" James laces his own fingers and stares down at them. The click of talons towards his ham sandwich has a smile tugging at his lips. "That's mine, y'know. There's something for you too." He points at the package and it gets shredded quickly under raptor claws. 

"Ham, rabbit, deer, boar and... squirrel?" Sam rattles off with alarming accuracy. 

"Those were on my doorstep this morning," James admits. "Fresh killed and still twitching. Cleaned them up and added them in." He pauses and asks, he thinks, rather casually, "Would you happen to know a barn owl about yea big? Thin scar across her beak." 

Sam groans as he drags a hand down his face. "No?" 

"Okay," James chalks it up to lack of sleep as he watches Mouser devour the thin ham strips with obvious pleasure. "Is he gonna get fat?" 

"No. I typically let them hunt every few days to simulate hunger the way they would in the wild. If I don't... Then they get fat.*" 

"Sounds..." James chokes on the word. 

"Cruel? Yeah. Two days is the max I can stand. If they aren't successful, well, thawed out mouse is good too." Sam reassures. "They hunted earlier but only Redwing caught something." 

"So Mouser would've had mouse if I hadn't come along." 

"Yup. I have a cooler of them in case it happens." Sam grins, James relaxing that his feathered friend still gets to eat. 

They sit in companionable silence that James enjoys more than he lets on. 

"I have to get them back to their living space. Next Tuesday good? I can come on Thursdays too but that means Anya and I'm not sure if you're ready for her just yet." Sam says before teasing James. 

"Anya?" 

"Rehabilitated golden eagle that I got attached to in New Mexico." He replies over his shoulder as the hawks hop up from the table with a flap of their wings. "I'd wave but I don't think Redwing would appreciate it." 

James waves instead watching Sam until he's too far to make out clearly. Misty approaches after several beats, letting out a low whistle as she sees the shredded paper. 

"He's cute." 

"The bird or Sam?" James asks while picking at the sleeve of his favorite hoodie and the first impulse buy with HYDRA's black card. The front has Steve's shield, Natasha's Black Widow symbol surrounded by Sam's Falcon wings in a fanned display on a maroon background. It caught his eye and he was wearing it out of the store with a pleased hum. 

"Sam," Misty snorts as she settles next to James. 

"Oh." He nibbles on his lower lip and stares at his coffee, feeling a flush go across his face before he can control it. 

"Hey, if it's touchy..." She trails off as James shakes his head no. 

"I've never felt like this." James admits quietly. 

"Like what?" 

"I... I don't _know_." 

"Ah. Well, you've got the time to figure it out now." Misty gently squeezes his flesh-and-blood hand in support.

* * *

He finds himself paying more attention to the birds after that. On some niggling instinct he follows kingfishers to the river and spots rogue HYDRA agents harassing someone. James takes great pleasure in taking them out. 

He feels a little silly for doing it but he asks, "Anywhere else I need to be?" 

The largest of the kingfishers peeps at him imperiously before flying only a few feet. Ah. He's meant to follow then. 

After a long pause where the kingfisher twitters at a large raven, the raven flies down to the bench and caws, "Sam?" 

"You're taking me to him?" 

The raven bobs its head in a nod and caws again, "Yes." 

"Alright." 

Black feathers ruffle before the bird flies up and then lands **on** him. James freezes before the bird grooms the hair next to his ear with soft sweeps of its beak. He relaxes and waits, as the bird hasn't moved off of his shoulder. 

It croaks loudly at an approaching figure which turns out to be one Sam Wilson out on a run along the river. 

"Hey Bones." Sam says without looking up before Bones caws louder, more insistently. "I suppose I have the time for a ch—Bones, no. You can tell Droplet and Riverstone that they can stop that right now." Another caw, softer and with a slight warble. "Not you too, man. I get enough already from Redwing and Anya." 

"Sam?" James murmurs and Sam swears a blue streak. Bones sounds, for the life of him, like he's laughing at Sam's surprise. "Uhh, the big kingfisher led me here." 

"Riverstone. She's a meddler at the best of times. You can go. Bones just likes you because raven lore talks about someone from the shadows with an arm like a star." 

"Oh. Umm, there was an owl last week." James volunteers warily. 

Sam sighs and draws a hand down his face. "Titania's not so bad." 

"Do they all have names then?" He asks as he reaches up with his metal hand to stroke as gently as possible at the breastfeathers on Bones. 

"Of course." Sam says as though any other explanation was just too tiresome at the moment. 

"Can.... Can you talk to them?" Honestly, not the weirdest ability to come across his radar in the grand scheme of things. 

"You're the first person to ask me." Sam smiles wide, sweat dripping down his forehead and cheeks. "Yeah, I can." 

"Since when?" 

Sam snorts as he jogs in place to keep his muscles loose and then does a cool down work out. "Since I was eight and Redwing crashed into the playground of my school." 

James doesn't know what to say to that other than, "So when Mouser was eating...?" 

"Listing them off as he finished." Sam admits. 

"Huh. Listen, Sam, I... I was gonna go grab a bite to eat. You wanna join me?" James stuffs his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and nibbles on his lip while Sam thinks about it. 

"Sure." He shrugs and then sniffs at himself. "Can I go shower at least?" 

"You smell fine." The words are out of James's mouth before he can help it. "I'm sorry." 

"I trust the guy with super-senses," Sam nudges James's other arm, careful not to dislodge Bones. "So, where are we going?"

* * *

Knightwing Café is in DC, hidden in a nook of the old city but blending with the frou-frou shops. James stumbled across it and found out that Misty's friend Colleen was running it. The raven takes off to tell his unkindness of the one with the star on his arm. Sam murmurs something about confirming raven lore for the past seventy years as the bird leaves them. 

"So, exactly how smart are they? Smarter than what scientists and average people know, that's for sure." James asks as they settle into a booth after being shown there, peering out to scan the crowd for HYDRA-disguised-as-S.H.I.E.L.D. 

"Incredibly smart, yes." He agrees before they order from the varied menu at Knightwing's. "The ravens, eagles, owls and smaller parrots have an extensive clan knowledge the likes of which so many people would love to get their hands on. It's weird to be privy to stuff that some people would kill to confirm." 

"Like what?" James is fascinated by the way that Sam lights up when talking about the birds and their intricacies. 

"The real count of dead soldiers at Antietam in the Civil War, for one. The damage the bombs did in both World Wars and the impact the atom bomb had in the cities it was used on." Sam gestures as he explains, his face so expressive and the descriptions so vivid that James wants to sit in Knightwing and listen for hours. "The impact of what the oil tycoons are doing now. The spirits of the deceased reaching across the veil to talk to the owls, the power of the older empires that history speculates so much about... They have so much stored away that sometimes I get overwhelmed." 

"Do you write it down? Or record it?" 

"I've thought about it, in case there's someone who shares my talent with birds. I know someone who works with foxes and he's... Come to think of it, you might know him." Sam's brows furrow as he pauses. 

"Who?" 

"Gabriel Jones of the Howling Commandos." The second Sam says it, James is inundated with memories of a grinning soldier who spoke German, French and English with a smoothness that belied his bright personality. "Is that a yes or...?" 

"Gabe always was a little... extra." James mutters in response as their food gets set down and their coffee is refilled. "Foxes?" 

"It's apparently how he got a lot of his info back in the day." Sam laughs as he digs into his meal. "Nobody bothers with foxes slinking around the camp or base when they're in the woods." 

"True," he hums as the memories fill in several gaps in the board he has going. James pulls out his little notebook and pen, scribbling shorthand for his memories as they appear. 

"Is that...?" 

"If I remember something, _when_ I remember it, I write it down on the fly and piece my life together from it. You just filled a huge gap by mentioning Gabe." He admits as he flicks through the notebook. "Here's most of it from start to finish. You think I should reach out to one of them?" 

"I'm going to assume you mean Natasha and Steve." Sam stares as he takes up James on his offer of looking. 

"Yeah, but I'm not sure which one." James picks at a cigarette burn in the table, looking up again to see if Sam can help. 

"I don't think I can tell you but... you can join in the back of my therapy session if you want. Steve likes to sit there with a hoodie and a baseball cap. Honestly, the Avengers really need a better incognito strategy." Sam says as he drinks his coffee. 

The thought of not knowing where the exits are makes him pull a face. 

"Or you can join Tasha and I on our weekly walks of the Lincoln Memorial Park with coffee?" He suggests instead and James's shoulders relax. "She's also way more aware of her surroundings so you're going to have to keep a good distance." 

"Can I do both?" He blurts, peering through his fingers after hiding his face to see Sam looking at him fondly. 

"Your choice James, but yeah, you can do both. I go work at nine, you can come scope out the building and then consider whether or not you want to try the other one." Sam reassures him with a pat on his metal hand. James swallows softly and presses into the touch, the sensors on that hand not dulled in the least compared to his other. "People don't usually touch that one, huh?" 

"No. It feels the same though." James responds as they order again, just coffee this time and bask in the company of one another.

* * *

James does end up following Sam to work the next day, shuffling into the VA after him and keeping his distance. 

"Sir?" James tenses up and he sees Sam walking over. "Sir, can you sign in—"

"Amy, this one's mine." Sam says calmly as he scoots between James and the twenty-something brunette. "It was hard enough convincing him to get here, let alone sign stuff." 

James skulks in the background, practically plastered against the wall as he eyes her warily. It isn't an act and he refuses to interact with anyone but Sam, Misty and **maybe** Gabe or Steve should they show. She's bright, sweet and trying to right the world's wrongs; he doesn't want to sully her opinion with his already bad attempts to socialize. 

Once upon a time, this wasn't so hard. He would've charmed her with a quick flash of teeth and a wink as he signed in with bold strokes. Now he just wants to leave. 

" _Oh_. Skittish, huh? Alright, just this once." Amy returns to her desk and waves them on. 

"You good?" Sam asks as they walk down the hall, James watching as Sam easily greets several people on the way. 

"I've been better." James decides as he slinks behind Sam like a stray cat. Steve was always the good one at doodling but sometimes he liked James's ideas better. The urge to grab a pencil and draw out silly sketches was new but not bad. 

"We all have." he says as he opens the door to the place. James takes in all the exits and finds the perfect spot to settle, up high in the room with a perfect look-out for a sniper. "Up there? Can you get down again after the session?" 

"I can." He blinks at the small basket of food and warm coffee. "What's this?" 

"Snack. The session breaks for food and I thought you might not wanna come down." The thoughtfulness of the gesture makes James feel warmer than he has in a while outside of talking to Misty and Colleen. He'll get where he wants to be, eventually. 

The sound of footsteps drives him up to the spot, his legs dangling as the veterans all file in, some more recent than others through the way they walk and talk. At least three are guarded as they spot him but relax when Sam tells them that James is a sniper and he feels comfortable being able to see everything. 

Steve does sit in the back corner, expression unreadable as he watches Sam speak with all of them. Sam doesn't patronize them for feeling fear or paranoia and treats each question as seriously as possible. James kicks his feet back and forth as the break commences but Sam hasn't pointed him out to Steve yet. 

He finds a ham sandwich with his favorites and a little note. 

**Titania said it was your favorite late-night snack when you can't sleep. Figured it'd do you some good in here. -Sam**

It does make him relax a little as Sam resumes the session with ease. He sips the coffee and finds himself willing to at least show up to Steve. 

_Bucky has a backwash of regret for not protecting Steve by being late to a meeting once._

James shakes his head to clear it and looks down to see the veterans dispersing at a fairly decent pace, all but Sam and Steve leaving. 

"If I found a certain someone and he chose to show up, would you keep your distance?" Sam asks Steve as he rearranges the desk materials and cleans up the crumbs from the counter to occupy his hands. Steve joins him with a pensive expression but removes the cap to tuck it into his pocket. 

"Depends on what he remembers," Steve counters lightly as he rights creamer containers and tucks away sugar packets for the next meeting scheduled here. "What name he's using and if... If he's here and remembers enough, I'll keep my distance." 

James knows that look, knows it well enough that maybe he can use Bucky again to wipe the look off of Steve's face that's sad and **_hurts_** in a way he never thought it could. 

Bucky fits better than James, at any rate, not that he'd mind if Sam still used it. He slips down the floor to ceiling curtains with a whisper of fabric and solemnly hands the basket back to Sam. 

"Bucky?" Steve's voice is strained, his eyes taking in Bucky's face and frame like he's still imagining things. 

"Hey punk." He says it softly and Steve trembles like he used to _Brooklyn, throwing his coat over thin shoulders and blond hair_ in the winter but doesn't touch. Bucky reaches out with his metal hand, waiting for Steve to stare at him in horror _like on the trainbridgeroadHelicarrier—too many to count_ as he rests it on Steve's warm shoulder. 

What happens makes him melt into the touch as Steve engulfs him in a hug that's slightly wetter than Bucky intends it to be. "Hey jerk. Took you long enough."

* * *

The meeting with Steve doesn't magically make everything right but some part of Bucky eases at the thought of knowing that Steve is doing well. 

It takes him nearly three months to brave the thought of Natasha and mostly because the last time he saw her, he was trying to kill her. He meets with Sam every Tuesday, learning more about the world of birds and their general knowledge of humanity on an unprecedented scale. 

Bucky finds his memory notebook filled with little scribbles of Redwing, Mouser, Anya and Bones instead of compulsively writing down memories. He buys three more with the intention to fill those with more memories but those end up much the same as the first, only with more and more birds with blurbs of who they are. 

Sam introduces him to Gabe again on a Thursday with Anya snuggling up to Bucky. 

"Is it still Bucky?" Gabe asks shrewdly as he strokes the fox in his lap. 

"Yeah, Bucky's good." He replies as he keeps petting Anya, the massive bird careful to distribute her weight along his thighs. "Stuff's not all clear though." 

"Well, Buck, it ain't any clearer for the Commandoes that are left. We're gettin' old." Gabe snorts as his rheumatic hands cradle the fox with a tremor to them. "Too old really but there's nothing we can do about it." 

"I keep getting bits and pieces with Sam and Steve but... I know I need to talk to Natasha." Bucky licks at his lips as he watches Sam laugh at the antics of the birds flying over him. "I'm not sure I'll like that part of me; the part that killed and maimed and wasn't really **me** but it was. I hurt her. I probably hurt a lot of people with what they made me do." 

"Bucky." Bucky turns at Gabe's serious tone, the dark gaze solemn and sincere at the same time. "You gotta make peace with yourself and those you hurt or it's going to eat at you when you're looking like me." 

Bucky cards a hand through his long hair and blows out a long breath. "I know." 

"If you and Steve ever end up lookin' like the rest of us old folks, that is," Gabe mutters as he pats Bucky's knee. 

"I've got no clue what they did to me. If I knew... I'd share." Bucky offers dryly. "It's not all it's cracked up to be. I got stretch marks from hell." He lifts up his shirt to show Gabe the large white tiger stripes of growth on his skin, the edges of them looking like lightning struck. "Stevie does too, he just tans better than me." 

"Damn." Gabe huffs out as Bucky drops his shirt again. "One hell of a side-effect." 

"Yeah." Bucky goes back to stroking down Anya's breast feathers with his metal hand. She makes a noise that has Sam choking on his laughter and groaning. 

"Anya, no!" 

She leans in close and buries her face against Bucky's chest with the curve of her hooked beak laying over his heart. Personally, he's pleased and astonished in equal measure that she trusts him this much. 

"What? Did she say something?" Bucky is holding her almost like a plush toy but he's making sure not to crush the delicate feathers and the large eagle with his strength. 

"That she was going to test your reaction to being cuddled." Sam sighs as Bones also lands on Bucky. "Not you too, Bones..." 

"Is something wrong?" 

"No?" Sam says but it's more a question than an answer as he stares at the birds with an expression that wouldn't look out of place on Bucky's Mom. 

"Are they normally this cuddly?" Bucky's hands are full of stroking black and golden feathers when the birds nuzzle him. 

"They like that you're grooming them. It's a sign of trust." Sam admits as he gently sits down on the ground with the sparrows and songbirds. 

Bucky's glad for the winding trails of the park because it looks like Disney's come to life with Sam, Gabe and Bucky at the center of it all. Fox kits are romping, birds are tweeting and—Bucky's head whips around at the flash of a camera. 

He growls in the back of his throat but it's Redwing that gets there first, talons flashing as she picks up the camera like a small rabbit and takes off. 

"Hey! Stupid bird, get back here!" The photographer protests as he follows Redwing. She responds with a **_-KEE-YAAR-_** and drops the camera straight into the memorial pond with a loud splash. 

Sam chuckles at the hawk's call while she backwings onto Sam's jacketed shoulder. 

"'Who's stupid enough to wade through the pool and get arrested for trespassing?'" Sam translates before shaking his head. "Thank you but maybe next time just shatter it like a regular hawk?" 

She kee-yees softly, staring directly at Bucky as she does it. Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and mouths 'No, I am not saying that.' Redwing fluffs her wings and settles all her weight on Sam's shoulder and kee-yees again, more insistently this time. 

"What is she doing?" 

"What she wants me to say isn't for the park or relevant anytime soon." He's speaking more to Redwing than Bucky but Bucky understands that it's probably embarrassing for Sam to translate. 

Redwing hisses irritably but goes back to balancing her weight properly. 

Bucky feels it slowly, like he's swallowed the sun all over again and warmth is spreading throughout his body. 

"Gabe?" 

"Yeah, Buck?" 

"What's it mean when it feels like you've got the sun in your chest?" He blurts out after Sam goes to refill his water bottle, the sparrows following and nesting in Sam's thick curls that are now spilling over onto his forehead. "When the person you spend so much time with causes it?" 

Gabe just chuckles softly and shakes his head. "Oh boy. Never thought _you_ of all people would be asking me about **love**."

"Love?" Bucky's voice cracks on the word but he listens dutifully for the reply. 

"You smile when you think about them, they're your first and last thought of the day and you think the world of 'em. That sound about right?" Gabe gives him an expectant look and Bucky sighs softly at all of it. "You're love-struck for sure, Bucky."

* * *

Bucky finds he doesn't want to slip back into the identity of the Soldier but isn't confident enough to trail Sam and Natasha with his own abilities. 

It feels like oil and water at first but then—Bucky melts away to reveal the Soldier renewed, reformed but softer than his usual brutal ways. This is strictly reconnaissance. 

Once the target is acquired, the Soldier keeps a distance of at least twenty feet, the sharp blue gaze taking in the unusual activity of the birds in the area while also listening to the conversation between the targets. 

"He's nervous about coming to meet you," say the one with the light blue sweater. The Soldier has the inexplicable urge to call that one 'Sam' and the other target 'Natasha.' His handlers must be poking fun at his inability to distinguish targets without names again. 

"Is he? Then why do I have the feeling of being watched?" Level Seven from SHIELD, former KGB affiliated; the Black Widow program at its peak. 

"Look, I told him where we were, okay?" 

The look that crosses her face is both contemplative of murder and honestly surprised. "You found him?" 

"Going by the name of James, sitting in a park feeding my hawk a piece of ham. So dangerous." 'Sam' scoffs as he gestures with his coffee. 

"He's here and it isn't James or Bucky right now." The Soldier flinches. She's found him and his cryo will be much longer because of it... The second name has Bucky falling back, caught by Sam's supportive hands and meeting the impressed gaze of Natasha. 

"Hey." He says weakly, still trying to wrestle the Soldier away. He's been lax with training, even with HYDRA coming after him. Bucky's too used to having birds watch his six now. 

"Oh no you don't," Sam gently cups Bucky's face and smiles as he raises his gaze. "They _like_ watching your six." Bucky realizes he'd said the last part out loud. 

"Birds... Sam, is there something I need to know aside from the fact that you found Bucky?" Natasha asks with a raised red brow. 

"I talk to birds, they talk back. They like Bucky." Sam's bluntness makes Bucky give a rusty laugh that has both of them whipping back around to look at him. "It's mostly because of his ham sandwiches and groomings, before you ask." 

"... I see."

* * *

Bucky and Natasha fill in the remainders of Bucky's memory gaps. Most of them are not pleasant in the least. Misty and Sam make Bucky a **lot** of hot chocolate the first few days of trying to coax out memories, each set more painful than the last and the conditioning leaves him curled up into a ball of misery by the time he's done. 

Sam joins him on the floor, wrapping a blanket around both their shoulders as he offers something else aside from hot chocolate. It's Bucky's favorite sandwich with a little smiley face of mayo next to still-steaming fries and tea. 

He takes the plate with a small smile of his own. 

"I think Bones has a crush on Anya." Sam says randomly and Bucky snort-laughs before he can help himself. "No, seriously. They're constantly talking in fledgling speak, always perching together and dragging Mouser into too." 

"I don't think that's a crush." Bucky murmurs dryly as he bites into his sandwich and hums at the taste. He wipes his mouth with the back of his real hand while continuing after he swallows the bite, "Seems to me like they're planning something." 

"Planning what? I mean, I can understand it but all they talk about is voles and lemmings which is weird because lemmings don't live this far south." Sam frowns. 

"Maybe it's code." Bucky mutters into his sandwich and that has Sam turning to him with a thoughtful look. 

"Probably. I'm sure they don't mean any harm by whatever it is," He shrugs and smiles at Bucky. 

"Fry?" Bucky offers as he finishes off the sandwich. Sam accepts it as blanket permission to steal the fry that Bucky was going to eat, the half-curly one with the crunchy piece on the end. "Hey!" 

"Oh. Oops. Share?" 

"Can I get the crunchy bit?" Bucky asks as he pulls on it. Sam tugs on the opposite end and it comes apart easily. 

"Oh good. I hate that part. Always grates on my teeth." Sam mentions as he makes a face at Bucky's half. 

"Let's sort the fries then because your sandwiches always make me fuller than I think and I can hear your stomach gurgling from here." 

"Thanks Bucky." Sam's expression softens and Bucky swears that Sam is made of sunshine and stars because that's all Bucky can think about when Sam spends time with him.

* * *

Later, when Bucky has time to think about it, he'll blame the birds for getting Sam to kiss him. 

It starts out on a good day, Bucky feeling great and on the way to a museum to see it with Sam; he tells himself it isn't a date if they don't kiss or hold hands. The cold air makes his breath look like dragon's smoke while he waits for Sam to arrive. He'd picked his way around some serious pieces of black ice even with the walkways salted in the city. 

Sam's speaking to a pair of very familiar kingfishers and he doesn't watch where he's going. Bucky does and sees the ice before Sam can step on it. He bolts from his spot on the railing and yelps when he's the one who slips on the ice. Landing on his back, Bucky wheezes as he tries to get air back into his lungs. 

"Bucky? Droplet, scope out the rest of the sidewalk for ice please." The kingfisher tweets softly in response as Bucky sucks in cold air. "You alright? Did you hit your head?" 

"No," his answer's strained but better than it would have been a few seconds earlier. "Just my back." 

"That's better than I hoped," Sam teases as he examines Bucky's sore back very carefully. "You want to go back to your apartment?" 

"We've had this planned for days. No way am I going to back out now." He stubbornly answers as he sits up with a long groan. "It'll heal. I just need to sit down for a bit." 

"If you're sure..." Sam leans down to check his pupils and Bucky pulls in a strained breath as Sam looks at him. "Bucky?" 

"'S nothing." He whispers before licking his chapped lips unconsciously. Sam leans in and pauses for a moment. "Sam?" 

"Been wanting to do this for weeks," he whispers back before kissing Bucky so softly that it barely registers before Sam starts pulling away. Bucky cups the back of Sam's neck and pulls him down for a heated kiss that gets them a few wolf-whistles and a few 'Get a room's too. 

"Me too." 

Sam helps him up and brushes off the snow with a smile meant just for Bucky. It feels like Bucky's bathing in warmth even though the real temperature is freezing. He offers his gloved hand and Bucky takes it without hesitation. 

Bucky's pretty sure he hears Bones cawing their names in succession, "Sam." A pause before he starts up again with— "Bucky. Mates." 

He's not even embarassed as he laughs until his back reminds him not to do that. 

"What?" 

"Your birds," he says hoarsely as they enter the museum, "were trying to fucking _**matchmake us**_." 

"Well, I'll be damned." Sam chuckles softly as he presses a kiss to Bucky's cheek. "I think it worked."

**Author's Note:**

> Comment, complain, ect.
> 
> *Sam doesn't actually interfere. The hawks, eagle and owl have thier own natural hunting cycles.


End file.
